


Sharing the Room

by Filmsterr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Practice Kissing, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-05-29 15:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: Because, among those flirty, mirthful people is Dean. As always, he's making the rounds with the prettiest girls- and now, thanks to Castiel's help, the prettiest boys, too. He dances with boys who are slim and dark-haired, with big round eyes and delicate little hands that slide all around Dean's jeans. Which is only more frustrating, because that could be him. Why isn't it him?





	Sharing the Room

They've been doing this... _thing_ for a while. For too long, probably. Cas could kick himself for letting it go on as long as it has. He'd been stupid and reckless in the beginning, and now he's left with all these confusing feelings, and something that feels dangerously close to a broken heart.

When Dean first told Cas that he was "curious", as he put it, Castiel was excited for him- and truthfully, he was honored to be confided in in such a way. Sure, he and Dean had always been close, enough to keep rooming together after they'd been randomly assigned together their freshmen year. But Dean had loads of people that he could come to with this information. The fact that he had chosen to trust Cas meant something, he was sure of it. And it made him feel good inside that Dean trusted him the same way he trusted Dean. 

Of course, the fact that Castiel was gay must've helped. He was one of Dean's only openly gay friends, as far as he knew. So, his expertise on the subject was probably worth a little something. 

So he'd said all the things he thought Dean needed to hear, things that helped him when he first came out, and things he wished he'd heard then. He told him that this was great, and thrilling, that he was opening the door to a whole new side of him that he'd never known before. He also told him to take his time, to find himself without feeling the need to fit any preconceived molds. It's not a competition, and he wouldn't miss out on any Most Gay prizes if he wasn't dancing on pride floats his first year out of the closet. 

Then there was the night when they were drinking in the apartment, and Dean had lightly suggested that they... you know... try something. "Explore", Cas thinks is the word he'd used at the time, and Cas had liked it. It made it seem as if his body was uncharted territory, waiting for the solid stroke of Dean's hand to bring him into existence. 

And it had been good. Despite Dean's inexperience (with men, that is, he'd had his share of female partners before), he knew all too well how to touch a man, how to make Castiel moan and melt. Where to flick his tongue to turn Castiel into nothing but air. 

And of course, they kissed. The first time their mouths met, Castiel had been almost unable to concentrate through all his nervous giggling. Dean had pulled away and asked, "It's not that terrible, is it?" He was joking, in that cool, confident way he had where even self-deprecation became charming. But that wasn't the problem at all. Because it was precisely the fact of how surprisingly un-terrible their kiss was that had Castiel more anxious than he could remember being around a hook-up. 

They kept things nice and separate from then on. There was their friendship, and then- sometimes- there was this other thing. Not only when they were drunk. Sometimes on long and boring afternoons, or in the middle of a study session. But only ever on Dean's suggestion. Cas was never, never, the one to initiate. 

At first, they just stuck to hand stuff, and it was more than enough to keep them satisfied. God, the way Dean's eyes lit up when he saw the cum leaking out of Castiel's cock. Like he was so proud of himself that he could do it. That should have been when Castiel first noticed himself getting into trouble, but it's amazing how many things he'd let slide because he liked seeing Dean happy.  

Then, one night after he came back from going out, he begged Castiel to let him suck his dick. He wanted to try it, and he couldn't find anyone at the bar, and if Cas didn't mind, then well...?

Castiel didn't mind, but he should have. Because that very night he looked at Dean, with his too-pink lips and his splotchy cheeks and his glassy eyes, and he knew it. He knew he loved him. 

He knew he loved him in that scary, too-big, no way they could keep being friends after this, kind of way. He was terrified that it would slip out one time, in the middle of fooling around, when he didn't mean to say anything. It should have made him more cautious. Should have, anyway. 

From there, it spiraled out of control. Dean would go down on him, and Cas would return the favor. Dean would lick his fingers and play with Cas’ hole- and _shit fuck_ the things that did to him.  

Cas wasn’t shy in admitting he’d been with a handful of people. It was maybe what made him even a better introductory partner for Dean. But somehow, when Dean touched him, it was like something brand new. He felt like a virgin, and weirdly, that was a good thing. 

He wouldn’t pretend to be surprised when Dean asked if they could go all the way. They’d done everything else, why not check off this one last box? Hadn't they been barreling down the road toward this the whole time?

Except... Cas didn’t trust himself. Not one little bit. He knew that this was the point of no return; that the minute Dean sank inside of him, it would be all over. He’d be a goner, no chance of recovery, and then their friendship could never come back from that. 

So, he’d have to say no. He was flattered, honored, but he simply couldn’t do it. 

That was much easier said than done, however, when Dean was looking at him with those hungry eyes, pleading, like they wanted him. Not just anyone, but him.  

So he spread his legs and opened his heart, and he let Dean fuck him. It was terrific, it was mind-blowing. It was soft in all the right places, and rough when Cas needed it to be. Left him unable to walk or think of anything else for days on end. 

It was probably the worst decision of his life. 

So, all that explains why Castiel is perched off in a corner of the bar, glaring over his pint glass at everybody in the bar who is having fun. Everyone who is light and full of mirth, who's dancing and flirting and- _yuck_ , don't make him barf. 

Because, among those flirty, mirthful people is Dean. As always, he's making the rounds with the prettiest girls- and now, thanks to Castiel's help, the prettiest boys, too. He dances with boys who are slim and dark-haired, with big round eyes and delicate little hands that slide all around Dean's jeans. Which is only more frustrating, because that could be him. Why isn't it him?

Cas takes a long chug of his drink and lies his head down on his arms. It's exhausting, being in unrequited love. He'd be much better off taking a vow of celibacy, or trying his luck on some ratty dating app. 

If nothing else, maybe one day he'll get rich writing poems about the beautiful boy who used him for his body and left him with a broken heart. 

"Heads up, handsome."

Speaking of that boy...

Dean throws himself down into the seat across from Cas and taps him on the head. "C'mon, Cas, will you wake up? I gotta talk to you."

Wearily, obediently, Castiel raises his head. "What is it, Dean?"

Dean's eyes are just are sparkling as ever. His cheek bones have not gotten any less sharp and his jawline remains something out of one of Castiel's many fantasies. He's tempted to close his eyes again just to save himself the pain of having to take it all in, but he convinces himself to play along for at least another few minutes. "It's just... I've been thinking." 

"Not a cause to alert the media."

Dean ignores his comment. He's playing with his beer bottle, close to empty and resting on the table in front of him. He's flushed, probably from the drinking and the dancing, but he seems focused on delivering the next words he has planned. "Just... there's like a lot of stuff I still haven't tried yet. And, I'm already late in the game, you know, a little behind everyone else, so I figure I better get to work. Like, do I like bottoming? What about 69? Then there's a whole lot of stuff I saw on the internet that I don't even know what that is, so I'll need someone to figure it out with... and I was thinking, if you want, that that person could be you. On a more permanent basis than now. Like a boyfriend basis."

It isn't a perfect love speech, but it's endearing enough. If Castiel had been listening, it surely would have given him butterflies despite the mild sexual content and the awkward fumbling of Dean's words. 

Unfortunately, due to his preconceived notions and the vague jealousy he had of everyone who shared the room with Dean, Castiel had tuned out about halfway through Dean's speech. "Could you please spare me the details of your sex life?" he spits out, as he starts to push himself out from the booth. The last thing on Earth he wants is to listen to the wish-list of sexual positions Dean is going to try out on the masses of their town. 

Dean stops toying with his beer bottle and peers curiously across the table. "So... you don't wanna be my boyfriend, then?"

Cas freezes in his tracks. "What?" He blinks several time in rapid succession. 

At that, Dean lets out a low whistle. He shakes his head and chuckles to himself, and he starts to slide out of his seat. "You know what? I think I want a boyfriend who actually listens to me." 

He's interrupted by Castiel reaching out to grab his arm. The grip is stronger than intended, but Dean doesn't flinch. Cas narrows his eyes and gets straight to it. "Are you being serious? You're not just looking for like a.... starter boyfriend, or something?"

Dean gives him a cool once-over, dragging his eyes from the top to the bottom of Castiel's body. "You, my friend? You're no starter boyfriend. You're for sure a high-level, advanced-only boyfriend. In fact, I'm worried I don't have the skills."

There's about a million reasons why Castiel could choose not to believe him. Dean is super gorgeous, and smarter than he thinks, and he could have any one of the people in this bar without even batting an eyelash. 

But Cas really, really wants to be the one who goes home with him. 

"Well," he says, trying to conjure up his best, most self-assured smile, "I guess I could help you practice. Your skills, I mean."

Dean pulls him up from the booth and slides his hand into Castiel's back pocket. "You're a real pal," he grins, looking more wolfish than Castiel had ever seen. They walk together towards the exit, without making a fuss or telling any of their friends. They had their own room to share, after all. 


End file.
